


Kingdom of Suffering and Pain

by HighLadyOfRomanceAndAngst



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24869323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighLadyOfRomanceAndAngst/pseuds/HighLadyOfRomanceAndAngst
Summary: The day is Samhunnin, nearly a year since the end of the war... and the death of the Thirteen. A memorial has just finished its construction at the very spot where they gave their lives on the battlefield. When Aelin takes Manon to see the statue, it gives the witch one last chance to say goodbye. After all, anything can happen on the day when the spirits are close to the world. Close enough to pass over, even if it’s just for a moment.
Kudos: 11





	Kingdom of Suffering and Pain

Nearly a full year had passed since the war with Erawan and Maeve. Nearly a year since the Thirteen had sacrificed themselves to win that final battle. All except for one.

Manon Blackbeak, the last witch of the legendary coven.

In order to honor the witches who had been her companions and friends for all of her long, immortal, wicked life, she had requested a memorial be made in their honor. Aelin obliged the request, and set to work immediately, making sure the final product wouldn’t be seen until it was finished. Months passed with no word, but the finest architects from Erilea had traveled to Terrasen to construct a final reminder that the Thirteen had been there, that they had lived.

Now on Samhuinn, the day when spirits were closer to this world than on any other day, the memorial was completed. 

Aelin was silent as they wound their way around the castle, down the stairs, out the gates where Manon wanted her Thirteen to be placed. At the very front of the castle, where they had perished, so that all who passed through here would know of the honorable witches who gave their lives for their queen, because they were dreamers who believed in a better world. A world led by Manon, the last descendant of Rhiannon Crochan.

As they strode through the towering gates of the Orynth castle, Manon noticed a new relic had been added to the walls. A lion and a cub on either side, protecting the castle from harm. Manon ran a moon-white hand over the sleek, golden design. Underneath the lion were the words in the common and fae language: _For Gavriel, the Golden Lion of Dorenelle, who died to save this castle, and his cub. He will forever remain the protector of Orynth. As long as the lion’s spirit lives on, this castle will never fall._

Aelin glanced back at the witch who had stopped to admire the detail and dedication. “Aedion made that within the first few weeks after the war. He wouldn’t sleep, eat, or drink until this was completed. After it was done...” Aelin loosed a breath, leaning against the stone walls, running a hand through her long spill of golden hair. “He was finally able to accept his father’s death through this. He may act like a typical stubborn fae male, but deep-down, he has the lion’s gentle nature. He will never forget what his father did for him, and for me and my country.”

Manon cocked her head at the female, adjusting the leather band she wore around her brow. “And what of me? Did you agree to build the memorial for my Thirteen because you thought I was in need of healing?”

Aelin frowned, shifting from one booted foot to the other. “No, I think a certain king will be enough for you.” Her eyes trailed up the long, sweeping towers, catching a figure with dark hair lurching out of view. “He will be enough.”

Without another word, the two continued on, Manon stalking behind Aelin in contemplative silence.

Past Orynth’s walls, there lay the place where the Thirteen gave their lives for a cause they believed in so heavily, they gave up their immortality, their bodies, all in hopes of giving them a fighting chance. Flowers were already placed around the base of the statue, many remembering what they had done, and for whom they died for.

Thirteen witches were carved into a stone memorial, accompanied by wyverns, their tails affectionately wrapped around their mistress’s legs. Their faces were forever immortalized in history, never to be forgotten to time. Leather bands stretched over their brows, as a tribute to witch customs. At the base of the statue, a plaque was positioned that told the story of the fierce witches. Near their feet, was a few simple words: _For the Thirteen, the witches who gave Terrasen their freedom._

Aelin placed a comforting hand on Manon’s shoulder. “This is where I leave you.” As her footsteps faded away, it was just the wind, Manon, and her witches.

Fighting tears, but unwilling to break down, Manon merely traced a hand over the stone, marveling at the detail cut into it, committing everything to memory. “Why did you have to leave me alone?” Manon wondered onto the free-falling wind that snatched at her braided hair, her leather clothing.

The witch in front, with the fierce, bold expression of someone who feared neither death nor pain, sent a bolt of heartbreak into Manon’s soul. “Why. Why did you have to leave me when I needed you the most? I needed you, and you went to the one place I couldn’t follow. The darkness claimed you, but I’m still here. I still have to live with the hole you left behind.” Finally, unable to hold it in any longer, tears streamed freely down her face, leaving a streaky trail behind. 

The loss still felt so raw, the pain unyielding. Manon got down on her knees and began to pray to the three-faced goddess even though the Gods had abandoned this world. She prayed that she could once again see those she had lost. It was fruitless to pray to dead Gods, but... Just once she wanted to look upon their faces and see all that they once were, as they were in life.

Just once. Once…

A faint breeze blew through the clearing, sending a chill snaking down her spine. Magic singed the air, the hair on her arms rising to the electric touch. Faint whispers swirled around, chattering in some long dead language. Then one voice became clear.

“Manon...” a voice whispered that was as familiar as her own, one that she thought she’d never get to hear again. 

When Manon looked up, she blinked, thinking it was the setting sun playing tricks on her eyes. But there they were, all twelve of them perched atop the stone wyverns with grins stretching across their features. Their silhouettes were see-through if the light hit them right, followed by a faint bluish line around the edge of their frame. But there they were. Her coven. Her family.

“Don’t leave me again, I need you. Please.”

Astern leapt down from her wyvern, striding to where Manon was on her knees in the grass. She sat down beside her, the wind rippling through her frame, blurring her features. “We’ve always been here, Manon. We’ve never left your side for a moment.”

“But how am I supposed to move on? Forget that you ever existed?”

Asterin smiled softly, and looked to the other witches who wore similar, peaceful expressions upon their faces. “As long as you are alive, we will not be forgotten. We live on through you, and all that you have done in our name.”

Manon stretched out a trembling hand, to touch her cousin, to reassure herself that she was here. Yet her hand passed through her, as if she wasn’t truly here. Visible but disconnected from the real world. Nothing more than a glimpse of the past. 

“I miss all of you every day. I can hardly get up, knowing that none of you will be there. None of you will ever be here again.”

“We will always be here, Manon. Always.”

Manon’s breath came heavily through her nose, as she attempted to still the tears that threatened to overflow once more. If she allowed the tears to break free, they would never stop.

“I found my human hunter and my baby,” Astern tentatively said, offering Manon a smile. “I love them more than anything.”

Her baby, the one the Blackbeak Matron had burned before Astern had gotten to hold, and the hunter who loved Asterin against all the odds. “What are they like?”

In her expression, she took on a far away look, lost in her own daydream. “They remind me of all the good things in this world, why I kept fighting for my survival. It was all for them.” Astern’s face was aglow with happiness, her smile as radiant as morning sun. She was beautiful, even in death.

“It would be selfish to ask you to stay, then.”

Asterin sat upon the edge of the memorial, her legs swinging back and forth. “You have your whole life ahead of you, a new chapter is about to begin. I have found my ending, now it is time for you to do the same.”

“How am I supposed to do that without you,” Manon whispered, her voice cracking.”

With brilliant eyes, her Thirteen smiled down upon her. “Live, Manon. Live.”

“Don’t leave me.”

Asterin leaned down and pressed a kiss upon Manon’s brow. It was like a cool breath of air released unto her skin, a comfort in itself. Then she leapt back up upon the memorial alongside all of the other witches. They placed a hand over their hearts as they recited, as one, “We are the Thirteen from now until the darkness claims us.”

As the sun set over the horizon, the Thirteen vanished from sight, leaving Manon alone, and sobbing on the ground.

She recited their names, wanting to forever imprint them into her heart.

Asterin.

Sorrel.

Vesta.

Faline.

Fallon.

Edda.

Briar.

Thea.

Kaya.

Linnea.

Ghislaine.

Imogen.

Their final words echoed in her head:

_We are the Thirteen, from now until the darkness claims us._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, but also not really


End file.
